


A Happy Valentine's Day

by QueenofThyme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-14 15:25:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 14,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofThyme/pseuds/QueenofThyme
Summary: CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE. Draco's not excited about Valentine's Day. Not when he doesn't have anyone to share it with. A Valentine's Day-gram may change all that...





	1. !!!

**Author's Note:**

> **Choose Your Own Adventure Instructions**  
>  View this fic as ["chapter by chapter"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31202112)  
> Always ignore the "next chapter" buttons  
> Ignore the chapter numbers (and titles)  
> Click on your choice at the end of each chapter to be taken directly to the actual next chapter
> 
> Lengths of fics vary from 2k-5k.  
> Please contact me on [tumblr](http://queenofthyme.tumblr.com/) if any issues with links.
> 
> Most importantly: Happy Valentine's Day!

Draco is having a wretched day. First, he can’t find his wand despite knowing for certain he left it on his bedside table the previous night. Then, when he finally finds it (in the pocket of his favourite cloak), he miscasts a summoning spell and ends up with tonic water in his cereal instead of milk. And if that isn’t enough, as he pours the ruined cornflakes down the sink, he catches sight of the sky outside: a patronisingly perfect blue. 

He slams the empty cereal bowl down next to the sink with more force than necessary and turns from the window. Taking a deep breath, he attempts to will his negative thoughts away. It’s just another day. There’s no need to get so worked up about a stupid holiday, especially one that can be traced back to muggle origins. _Wait. That’s not right._ Draco mentally slaps himself for the backward thinking.

_Muggles are wonderful_ , he thinks loudly. _Their holidays are just as valid as ours._ He sighs to himself, slumping against the kitchen bench. He’s alone most days anyway. Why should this day be any different? 

Draco makes a mental note to tell his therapist willing thoughts away is not as easy as she makes it sound. There must be a spell she can show him instead. Perhaps all memory of this contrived holiday could be removed from his brain, like a concentrated obliviate spell. The only problem is his next session isn’t until tomorrow so he has no choice but to stomach the rest of what is already promising to be a superbly horrid day.

Since it’s already out, and he’s lost his taste for breakfast, Draco prepares a tonic water with lime, and drifts into his sitting room lazily. His morning paper will be delivered soon and as long as the front page isn’t dedicated to Potter’s latest conquest (as it has been so no less than nine times in the past year), he expects it will bring him some momentary routine and peace. 

Sure enough, moments after Draco drapes himself comfortably on his chaise lounge, there’s a tap on the floor length window on the far side of the sitting room. Draco flicks his wand without looking up, de-solidifying the glass momentarily to allow the daily paper owl access. But when the unfamiliar owl flies over to Draco, it is not a newspaper attached to its claw but a large envelope in the most dreadful shade of pink. 

Draco knows what it is immediately. It’s not the first one he’s received but he does hope it will be the last, assuming the contents are in a similar vein. 

For most people pink envelopes bring giggles and blushing cheeks and the loss of all common sense. Draco’s ashamed to admit he may have had a similar reaction the previous year when one arrived for him. But to his horror, instead of the singing poem of love he expected to hear, he was treated to an unrecognisable voice screaming violent unrepeatable things at him. As much as he tried, he could not stop it until the disguised howler completed its message and burnt to pieces in front of him. 

So this year, he is understandably wary (and a little afraid) of the fresh pink envelope. He prods it gently with his wand, muttering various revealing spells and waiting for it to inevitably flash to red. If anything, it only seems to glow a brighter pink as he does. 

The delivery owl taps impatiently at Draco’s window, waiting to be let out. Draco grits his teeth. He has a choice. He can let the owl go and brave the letter in the hope it isn’t another horrible joke, or he can use the owl to send the letter right back to where it came from and show his tormenter he won't be tricked. 

**You choose:**

A:[ Draco flicks his wand at the window, letting the owl, and his last chance of returning the letter go. He sucks in a deep breath and prepares for the worst as he opens the letter.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31202124)

B:[ Draco gets to his feet and strides over to the owl. “This’ll show them,” he mutters as he reattaches the letter to the owl’s back leg and shoos it out the window.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388475)


	2. ###

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	3. !!!

There’s no screaming which is a good sign. But there’s no singing either. Only a long silence and then:

“Erm. Hi.”

Draco recognises the voice instantly. He can just imagine Potter rubbing the back of his neck as he says it too. 

“I know this might seem weird,” Potter’s voice continues from the pink envelope. “But after what happened last year, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Draco’s heart stutters in his chest. He holds his breath, waiting for further explanation. There’s a background noise like shuffling papers – is Potter sending this from his office? – before Potter continues. 

“You’ve made me–“

Potter’s voice cuts off so suddenly Draco worries the envelope’s magic is faulty and he’ll never hear the rest, but then he hears another voice.

“Harry, do you have time to go over the Richardson case files with –“

“Sorry, Samantha, I’m just…in the middle of a letter. Can I find you later?” Potter says awkwardly.

“No problem, thanks,” Samantha says, her voice fading. 

“Right,” Potter starts up again, “Where was I?”

Draco snorts. This has got to be the most embarrassing letter he has ever received. 

“Erm, well,” Potter says eloquently. “I want to do it again. This year. I mean, what we did last year. But…this year. I can’t remember if I said but I’ve been thinking about you ever since and I’d like…well, I think it could be nice. So, erm, just, erm, send me your…your thoughts on the matter, I guess. So we can determine the next, erm, steps. Okay, I’m going now. Happy Valentine’s Day, Malfoy. I mean, Draco. Erm. Bye.” 

The letter disappears with a puff of pink air and is replaced with a shower of heart confetti. Draco pulls a couple of pieces from his hair while his own heart returns to a steady rhythm. As thrilled as he is for Potter to send him a Valentine’s Day letter, there’s something about it that just doesn’t sit right with him. 

_I want to do it again. What we did last year._

That is the crux of the letter. Potter wants a repeat performance after a year of hardly any contact. Draco can’t deny he wants a repeat performance as well, but he also knows he could hardly cope if it really was only one more performance. The past year has ruined him and it’s all Potter’s fault. Does one poorly constructed Valentine’s Day letter change that?

Draco drafts two return letters and looks between them, unsure what he should send. He wants Potter, he really does, but he isn’t anyone’s booty call either. He leaves the letters on his coffee table while he fetches his owl, Ruby, and when he returns he already knows exactly which one he wants to send.

 

**You choose:**

** _A:_ **

[ _Dear Potter,_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419087)

[ _Thank you for your ridiculous letter. What did you have in mind?_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419087)

[ _Yours,_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419087)

[ _Draco_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419087)

[ _P.S Don’t forget to go over those Richardson files with Samantha._ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419087)

 

**B:**

[ _Potter,_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388367)

[ _Long time, no speak. How are you? I’m fine, not that you bothered to ask._ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388367)

[ _I’m guessing that was your first time creating a singing gram. A tip for your next conquest: you’re actually supposed to sing._ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388367)

[ _Draco_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388367)

 


	4. ###

This is a choose your own adventure story. Please don't use the next chapter buttons. 

Return to the previous chapter and click one of the two linked options at the end of the story.

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	5. !!!

Perhaps the letter is a little petty, cruel even. But Potter’s silence over the past year is objectively crueller and Draco’s almost certain Potter deserves it. Almost. 

To Draco’s relief, the next owl that visits him is, in fact, carrying his much-awaited newspaper. Although his enthusiasm is stifled somewhat when he notices the image on the front page. 

It’s Potter, of course, running a hand through his long black hair as he pushes past reporters. Someone at the Daily Prophet, who probably calls themselves a journalist, has added little pink hearts over Potter’s eyes that grow and shrink and grow and– well, they’re not particularly imaginative. 

Draco takes his time looking over the horrible image, taking in the stubble on Potter’s jaw, the unruly hair that Potter has let grow out for far too long and those impossibly broad shoulders. It’s not until his eyes follow Harry’s hand through his hair for the fourteenth time when he actually reads the headline above the image:

**POTTER’S SECRET VALENTINE**

There’s a sharp pain in Draco’s chest that he isn’t so sure is indigestion. He drops his eyes to the article text, skimming through the words. It’s mostly fluff and not worth reading but the last sentence is promising:

_A source close to Potter reveals the Chosen One’s romantic plans for his Valentine. Continues on page 3._

He can’t open the Newspaper fast enough. Unfortunately inside, there’s even more fluff to wade through. It must be a slow news day for an article as devoid of substance as this to make the front page. Regardless, Draco devours the content, searching for any actual news in it. 

_“He’s been working up the courage for a while,” the source tells us. “This person really has him smitten.” Exactly who the mystery person is, the source refused to share, however, we’re betting it’s one of the nine lovers The Daily Prophet caught in their walk of shame over the past year.”_

The article goes on to discuss the likeliness of each conquest stealing Potter’s heart, making Draco wonder when The Daily Prophet had transformed from actual newspaper to trashy magazine. He throws it onto his coffee table, annoyed at himself for being sucked in by such meaningless rubbish. 

His morning newspaper read ruined, – yet another thing claimed by this wretched day – Draco drifts back into the kitchen and places his glass in the sink, eyes darting to the blue sky again. He stares at it blankly until he spots a tiny, almost invisible cloud on the horizon. Somehow the sight of it calms him and he moves to turn away. Just before he does, another imperfection appears in the sky and he focuses his eyes on it excitedly. Although when he realises its Ruby returning to the Manor, his chest grows tight. 

He stays where he is, watching, waiting, his only movement an easy flick of his wand to allow his owl access through the kitchen window. The letter she holds is not pink, nor is it red. It’s a standard white envelope and it makes Draco want to fall into himself. 

On auto-pilot, Draco detaches the letter, giving Ruby a quick scratch under her chin, and opens it. He looks down at Potter’s terrible handwriting with squinted eyes. He hasn’t seen this handwriting with the heavily marked tittle over each “i” and the clumsy “t” strokes since school. It arouses a sentimentality in him that he can’t distinguish as positive or negative. His therapist hasn’t taught him how to deal with a thought like _this._ He’ll have to mention that tomorrow too.

Reading the letter is difficult – Potter’s handwriting is almost illegible – but Draco manages to identify most of the words:

_––– am I, Malfoy? Oh, I ––– know. How ––– you feel if you sent a Valentine’s Day ––– to some––––, only to ––– insulted? Next –––, just say you’re not inter–––– you absolute prat._

_Long –––, no speak? Don’t forget I hav––– heard from you either. Get ––––, Malfoy._

Even though the markings don’t resemble anything close to letters, Draco can easily guess what the second last word is. It’s so like Potter to lose his temper this quickly. All Draco did was remind the bastard how long Draco’s been waiting to hear from him. And, yes, he may have made a harmless quip about the lack of singing, but that’s no reason to get so worked up. 

He will admit Potter may have the tiniest point when he writes Draco hasn’t reached out either. But how was he supposed to know Potter wanted him to? That’s hardly his fault. Potter should have made it clear. 

Ruby nudges Draco and it gives him a brief distraction. He fishes for her favourite owl treats from his pantry and feeds them to her while he decides his next step. He’s in two minds how to reply.

**You choose:**

**A:**

[ _You can understand my shock at receiving a Valentine’s Day card out of absolutely nowhere like some sort of booty call. And I’m supposed to believe you’re interested in more than sex? You have a funny way of showing it, Potter._ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388394)

[ _Also, could you at least try writing legibly in your next letter? Your handwriting is giving me a migraine._ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388394)

 

**B:**

[ _Potter,_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388448)

[ _I suppose maybe I was a little harsh. Your letter was surprising but not completely unwelcome._ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388448)

[ _I have written a number of letters to you over the past year but I’m ashamed to admit I haven’t been brave enough to send any._ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388448)

[ _I’m very close to burning this letter too._ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388448)

[ _Regards,_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388448)

[ _Draco_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388448)


	6. ###

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	7. !!!

Draco doesn’t really have a migraine, but Potter’s writing _is_ painful to read, and he could just as easily develop one, so it’s not _really_ a lie. And he might as well have one since he feels like absolute shit thanks to this bloody wretched day. 

He plucks a limp banana from his fruit bowl – even his _fruit_ is shit today – and trudges upstairs to his bedroom, hoping that perhaps if he dresses and prepares himself for the day properly, said day will stop sneaking up on him so much. 

The banana tastes exactly how it looked it would. Draco swallows the overripe mush quickly as he prepares a bath for himself, scowling with each horrible bite.Draco’s not usually so indulgent to have a bath in the morning but he’s certain if there’s any day when he deserves a little indulgence for himself, it’s today.

This has to be some sort of prank, Draco thinks as he tests the water temperature; the hot water isn’t working. Of course. It’s easily fixed with warming charms, but that’s not the point. The point is this is the worst day in the stupid calendar and the person who created the holiday should be– Draco stops himself. _Positive thoughts_ , he tells himself, _positive thoughts,_ but he can’t think of any.

He focuses on his bath instead, adding the warming spells, calming spells (although he thinks he’s far too strung up to feel the effect) and some rose oils he’d purchased from a quaint muggle shop in London. It takes some time to get the consistency (and temperature) perfect but eventually Draco is satisfied.He places his wand on the bath ledge and shrugs off his robe, hanging it carefully on a hook. He sinks into the bath – _ah, finally something right_ – and drops his head back. Perhaps he could just go back to sleep here and wake up tomorrow. That would be nice. 

As soon as he closes his eyes, a familiar insistent tapping meets his ears. Ruby again.He lets her through the skylight and straightens up in his bath, ready to decipher whatever dribble Potter has decided to reply with. This time, it’s just a folded piece of parchment – Harry hasn’t even bothered with an envelope. What, is Draco a waste of stationery now?

Draco unfolds the letter over the side of the tub, worried he might accidentally drop it in and render Potter’s words even more illegible than they already surely are. He has to decipher letter by letter to determine the words this time:

_–ine. Yo–’re right. It –as a boot– call. I se–– you a VALEN–––E’S DA– GRAM as a f––––g boot– call. You’re unbel––vable._

Draco sighs. He can understand Potter’s anger. He knows he’s been rude. His therapist tells him he has to stop using insults when he’s angry with someone, that it isn’t constructive to the argument itself, but then again, she was also late to one of their sessions once, so can she really be trusted? 

Draco summons his quill and parchment and considers how he should respond.

**_You choose:_ **

** _A:_ **

[ _Potter,_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388415)

[ _Look, I haven’t forgiven you. Obviously. I don’t want to be hurt again._ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388415)

[ _Also, there’s no need to make your handwriting purposefully worse to spite me – if you continue, I won’t be able to read your next letter._ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388415)

[ _Draco_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388415)

 

**B:**

[You know what, Potter? Whatever. I don’t care anymore. Tell me what you’re wearing.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419159)


	8. ###

This is a choose your own adventure story. Please don't use the next chapter buttons. 

Return to the previous chapter and click one of the two linked options at the end of the story.

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	9. !!!

_Forgiven me? How did I hurt you? I mean that seriously, Malfoy. How? You made it seem like…like it didn’t mean that much to you. That’s why I was so nervous about sending you the singing gram._

_Harry_

_P.S. We both know you can cast a simple legibility spell on my letters so complaining about my handwriting is pointless. And rude. Here – I’ve even cast the spell on this one for you._

* * *

 

_Potter,_

_You’re the one who made it seem like nothing. You left so early._

_Draco_

* * *

 

_Malfoy,_

_I had work! You knew I had work. I asked for your floo address and you said there was no point._

_Harry_

* * *

 

_Potter,_

_Because I knew you wouldn’t call._

_Draco_

* * *

 

_Malfoy,_

_I couldn’t call because I didn’t have your floo address!!!_

_Harry_

* * *

 

_Potter,_

_You could have got it at work._

_Draco_

* * *

 

_Malfoy,_

_I could have illegally obtained it and invaded your privacy in the process, you mean. You said there was no point. What was I supposed to think?_

_Harry_

* * *

 

_Potter,_

_That I was worth the challenge._

_Draco_

* * *

 

_Malfoy,_

_That’s stupid._

_Harry_

* * *

 

_Potter,_

_You’re stupid._

_Draco_

* * *

 

_Malfoy,_

_You really are a fucking challenge, you know._

_Harry_

* * *

 

_Potter,_

_So why are you bothering? Desperate for a good lay?_

_Draco_

* * *

 

_Malfoy,_

_If you think all of this was about a quick lay, then you’ve really misjudged me, and how I feel about you. Do I actually have to sing to get the message across?_

_Harry_

* * *

 

_Potter,_

_Please, no singing. I believe you. I think. I am a pretty splendid lay though so it’s hard to tell._

_Draco_

* * *

 

_Malfoy,_

_So…_

_Harry_

* * *

 

_Potter,_

_You’re really bad at this._

_Draco_

* * *

 

_Malfoy,_

_You would be too if you’d already been rejected once._

_Harry_

* * *

 

_Potter,_

_Where is your Gryffindor courage?_

_Draco_

* * *

 

_Malfoy_

_I might need a little help._

_Harry_

* * *

 

**_You choose:_ **

**_A:_ **

[ _Potter,_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419030)

[ _I’m picking you up at seven tonight. Dress sharp._ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419030)

[ _Draco_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419030)

 

**B:**

[ _Potter,_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419192)

[ _I’ve enclosed my floo address. I’m sure you’ll work out what to do with it._ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419192)

[ _Draco_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419192)


	10. ###

This is a choose your own adventure story. Please don't use the next chapter buttons. 

Return to the previous chapter and click one of the two linked options at the end of the story.

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	11. !!!

As soon as he sends the letter, Draco feels a little queasy. He’s so used to using barbs and insults as a defence mechanism (or so his therapist says) that being genuine leaves him feeling a little vulnerable, and exposed. 

Rather than wait, and let the anxiety thicken in his empty stomach, Draco picks up a banana from the kitchen and heads up to his ensuite for (what he hopes to be) a relaxing bath. The banana is shit, overripe and browning – could Draco like this day any less?

He almost screams in frustration when he starts the water for his bath and discovers the hot water isn’t working. He lets the water run regardless and allows the sound of it hitting the floor of the tub to fill his mind. When he feels other thoughts beginning to leak in, he moves on to warming charms for the bath water. _Anything but Potter. Anything but Potter_ , he thinks desperately, inadvertently only thinking about Potter. 

Intent on having a _relaxing_ bath, Draco adds his rose oils – muggle but no less effective – and a couple of basic calming spells to the water. When he is satisfied, Draco places his wand on the bath ledge and drops his robe to the floor. He almost leaves it there, but then he thinks better of damaging the silk, so he picks it up and hangs it carefully on a hook. 

Expensive silk taken care of, Draco sinks into the warm water of his carefully constructed bath, sighing in relief. His mind finally clears itself of Potter when he hears the unmistakable tap on his bathroom skylight. He waves his wand at the window without even looking up and straightens up in the bath in preparation. 

The owl holds out another crisp white envelope. Just the sight of his first name written in thick ink makes Draco’s chest tight. He detaches the envelope slowly, split between his eagerness to know Potter’s reply and his reluctance to be rejected. If Potter read through the poorly concealed lines, Draco had basically admitted to pining after him for a year. And if Potter really was only after a booty call, now would be the time to honourably back out. Potter is a lot of things but he isn’t the type to take advantage. 

The letter is written in a careful hand. It is still distinctively Potter’s – cramped and heavy – but it is legible as if Potter had written painfully slowly to avoid scrambling his letters. There are no formalities this time, just one sentence:

_What did the letters say?_

Draco takes in a long breath. It’s not a rejection. It’s curiosity. Worse, it’s potentially an invitation for Draco to make a move and/or make a fool out of himself. 

The question, in Potter’s soft authoritative voice (the one present in all of Draco’s fantasies), repeats in Draco’s head so loudly he can no longer enjoy his bath. The question continues to berate him as he finishes the bath and dresses, slipping on a green shirt that reminds him of Potter’s eyes. 

The rest of the day passes slow and inconsiderately. A number of possible replies to Potter’s letter run through Draco’s head and he even begins writing a few of them, but he isn’t satisfied with any. They all reveal too much and too little at the same time. How can he explain precisely what he wants from Potter (love) without actually admitting his feelings (love)?

He can’t. 

He wonders if Potter is concerned by his lack of reply. His owl would have surely returned empty-handed by now and yet Potter hasn’t sent any further letters. 

The chime of his doorbell is a welcome distraction from his thoughts. Uncharacteristically, Draco hopes it is those muggle salespeople who try and sell you dodgy energy (the cons of moving into a muggle apartment). He could really do with a mindless spiel right about now. 

Thoughtlessly, Draco opens the door without looking through the peephole. It’s not a salesperson.

It’s Pansy. 

“Good, you’re dressed,” she says as she strides straight into Draco’s house. She shrugs off a long metallic coat to reveal a tight black dress with slits at both sides held together with rainbow threads. Draco knows exactly what the outfit calls for and he is not interested. 

“Of course I’m dressed. It’s the afternoon,” he replies, following Pansy into the living room where she has laid down on the chaise lounge with her dress hiked up indecently around her hips. She doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“So you’re not sitting around moping again because Potter didn’t call?”

Draco takes a seat on his guest chair across from Pansy. “He did call actually. Well he wrote, I guess.”

Pansy lifts her head to look at Draco, her mouth splitting wide in excitement for a second before it pauses and her eyebrows become drawn down in suspicion. “Then what the fuck are you doing here alone?”

“I’m not sure what he wants from me,” Draco answers, crossing his legs. Saying it aloud makes the situation sound a little silly. 

“Your hand in marriage if _The Daily Piece of Exaggerated Shit_ is to be believed.”

“Or a quick fuck if his track record is to be considered,” Draco counters.

“But you’re still going to see him, right?”

Draco shrugs. Even though the result is probably inevitable, Draco is determined to believe he’s still tossing it up in his rational mind. 

Pansy stands up, tugging at the bottom of her dress to pull it back into place. “If you’re not seeing him, you can join me for a Fuck Valentine’s Day Pub Crawl. I’m starting at the Leaky and ending fuck knows where.”

“Passed out on my doorstep, I’m sure.”

Pansy rolls her eyes. “That was one time.” She holds out her hand. “So, are you coming with me or with Potter?” She winks and the pun is immediately clear. 

“Fuck off,” Draco says, smiling.

Pansy withdraws her hand. “Potter, I take it, then.”

Draco doesn’t bother to correct her. He still hasn’t decided where Potter is concerned, but he’s certainly not in the mood to sit alone at dimly lit pubs while Pansy pulls. And Pansy always pulls. 

Draco escorts Pansy to the door and watches as she apparates with a soft click. He stares past where her body stood moments before on his doorstep to the park grounds across the street. The grass is worn and muddy, nothing like the bright green it had been only months earlier. 

A gust of cold wind whips past Draco’s door and he is reminded of the chill. He finally closes the door, returns to his living room and summons quill and parchment.

_Potter,_

_Meet me in Hogsmeade immediately. You know where._

_Yours,_

_Draco_

As soon as he finishes writing the letter, Draco has second thoughts. He bundles the parchment up and walks to his fireplace, ready to drop it into the open fire. A flicker of unexpected green light in the otherwise orange flame causes Draco to hesitate. He uncrumples the letter and reads it again. 

**You choose:**

** _A:_ **

[As much as Draco wants to see Potter, he can’t bring himself to send the letter. He doesn’t have the courage. He lets the parchment fall into the fire and watches as it folds in on itself, before heading to his the kitchen for a much-needed drink. Not for the first time, Draco wishes he wasn’t such a pathetic coward.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388592)

** _B:_ **

[Draco acts fast before he can change his mind, whistling for his owl even as he continues to hold the parchment over the fire. He doesn’t bother with an envelope, folding the letter and attaching it to Ruby’s leg with quick fingers. Just when he wants to take the letter and all its words back, Ruby is already disappearing into the horizon.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419108)


	12. ###

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	13. !!!

Faux-Valentine’s Day gram taken care of, Draco has a small pleasant moment of self-satisfaction, before the weight of the remaining day returns. One victory under his belt can’t help Draco reconcile with this stupid holiday. He’s still alone. 

When a second owl taps at Draco’s window not too much later, there’s an automatic panic – Draco hadn’t even considered that the sender of the faux-Valentine’s Day gram might retaliate – but it is short-lived when he recognises the rolled up newspaper in the owl’s clutches. 

The Daily Prophet is a load of tripe of course, but there is usually relevant news buried within the trash if you can be bothered digging. Draco unrolls the newspaper, not expecting much, but thankful for the distraction all the same. He almost drops it when he sees the cover. 

He should have known Potter would be the main story on Valentine’s Day. The Prophet is always finding ways to twist the news to include Potter. It’s understandable of course. Having the Boy Who Lived on the cover, now an undeniably attractive man (by all objective standards), is an easy way to sell newspapers. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t incredibly infuriating. 

The image of Potter has him running a hand through his long, wild hair, an act the editor surely knows jumpstarts the hearts of many of the Prophet’s readers. Draco, unfortunately, included. Someone with very little imagination has even added animated pink hearts over Potter’s eyes. Journalism. 

As irritated as Draco is that Potter has made the front story, he can’t help his interest in the headline and the story itself:

**POTTER’S SECRET VALENTINE**

There’s a tightness in Draco’s chest that he can’t describe but knows all too well. He devours the article, ignoring all the pointless fluff. The article speculates that Potter is looking to ask someone out for Valentine’s Day but there’s really only one small part with any substance to it, and even it could be made up:

_“He’s been working up the courage for a while,” the source tells us. “This person really has him smitten.” Exactly who the mystery person is, the source refused to share, however, we’re betting it’s one of the nine lovers The Daily Prophet caught in their walk of shame over the past year.”_

The article transcends back into speculative fluff from there, discussing each of Potter’s conquests with more detail than Draco cares to know about, but he can’t help himself from reading it anyway. When he’s finally done, and feeling considerably worse for it, he tosses the newspaper onto his coffee table. Distraction or not, he’s lost his appetite to read such trash. 

He drops his head over the back of his chaise lounge and closes his eyes. He thinks of Potter, bright eyes and broad shoulders, preparing for a date with conquest #4. She is tall and awkward but with a glint in her eye that makes Draco think she can use an unforgivable curse without hesitation. Potter would take her somewhere intellectual but not particularly romantic, like a museum. He’d dress in loose fitting jeans and a green t-shirt.

Draco’s head gets a little heavier as the blood rushes to it. He thinks of Potter, stubbly chin and unruly hair, preparing for a date with conquest #9. He is stocky and proud looking but he has a quiet voice that makes him seem timid. Potter would take him somewhere lively but not particularly romantic, like an Orchestral concert. He’d dress in loose fitting jeans and a green t-shirt.

Draco’s mind is just beginning to whirl with thoughts of conquest #2 when his doorbell rings. He jerks his head up a little too fast and has to stay still for a moment until the dizziness stops. The doorbell rings again. 

He walks to the door with some trepidation. He doesn’t really believe the writer of the disguised howler would break their anonymity and visit him in the flesh but an irrational fear remains. He almost faints when he opens it.

It’s Potter. In all his Potterness. Potter, in loose fitting jeans and a green t-shirt. Potter, eyes trailing down Draco’s body without any concern for manners. 

Draco is suddenly conscious of the thin white robe he is wearing, his unstyled hair and bare feet. 

**You choose:**

** _A:_ **

[Before Potter can look back up and see the colour flooding into his cheeks, Draco takes hold of the door and slams it shut with more force than strictly necessary.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388553)

** _B:_ **

[Draco crosses his arms, ensuring his robe is tightly enclosed around him and takes a quick breath. “When you’ve finished gawking, Potter, kindly tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388508)


	14. ###

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	15. !!!

Potter’s head snaps up, a dazed sort of smile leaving his face as he takes in Draco’s expression. “Can I come in?”

Draco battles with himself, the urge to slam the door in Potter’s face still strong. Instead, he takes a small step backwards. “You may.”

Potter’s smile returns and he strides past Draco, clearly taking the invitation as an all-access pass, which it most certainly is not. 

“The Sitting Room is to your left,” Draco says sharply when Potter takes an interest in the staircase by the door.

Luckily, Potter gets the message and turns into the Sitting Room immediately. Draco follows him in and is disappointed to see his chaise lounge taken. He takes a seat on the guest chair opposite. 

Potter is no longer smiling. He sits straight up on the lounge, fiddling with a loose thread at the upper thigh of his jeans. He looks exactly as Draco feels: nervous. That’s precisely when Draco realises Potter is visiting him on Valentine’s Day. Could that mean…

Potter looks up from his jeans and his eyes immediately dart to Draco’s legs. Too late, Draco discovers his robe has ridden up to reveal an inappropriate expanse of bare thigh. He tugs it back in place under Potter’s gaze. 

The only positive is that at least now Potter’s face is just as pink as his. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here,” Draco says.

Potter’s eyes flick away and he audibly swallows. “Erm,” he begins gracefully, looking around the room at anything but Draco. “I sent–“ Potter pauses when his eyes land on the newspaper on the coffee table. “What the fuck?”

He leans forward and snatches up the newspaper, eyes flashing as he scans the cover. He turns to the article page and reads while his fists tighten around the edges of the paper. When he finishes, he throws the paper back on the coffee table with obvious disgust. “You still read that trash?” 

Draco shrugs and opens his mouth to reply, but Potter interrupts.

“I didn’t sleep with any of them,” he blurts out. “I only dated them. Well, except for Raymond – he just came back to my house to borrow a water-repelling umbrella a few months ago. The Prophet obviously caught him leaving.”

Draco tries not to let his relief show but he feels his whole body sagging with it as he relaxes into his chair. “They can’t have been very good dates if you didn’t even pull,” he comments, trying to sound casual. 

Potter’s eyes find Draco’s before he replies. “I don’t usually sleep with someone unless I’m certain how I feel about them.”

There’s a small flutter in Draco’s stomach that reverberates through his entire body. He concentrates on keeping his tone even as he replies. “I’m flattered you made an exception for me.”

“Draco,” Potter says softly and seriously, much too seriously. “About last Valentine’s Day, I–“

Draco panics. He has to stop Potter talking before he says something terrible like “It was a mistake” or “I’m sorry” (for using you). He only has a second to think so he blurts out the first thing that comes to his head.

**You choose:**

** _A:_ **

[“Have dinner with me tonight.” And then when Potter gives him a strange look and he realises’s what he’s said, Draco adds: “It’ll give the Prophet something to talk about.”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419030)

** _B:_ **

[“Holidays are a scam.” And then when Potter gives him a strange look, Draco adds: “Imagine how much money the maker of those stupid pink singing grams is making today.”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388532)


	16. ###

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	17. !!!

Potter is silent for a moment, his eyes burning into Draco. Until finally: “I don’t think the Valentine’s Day grams are stupid.”

Draco snorts. “Of course _you_ don’t. I bet you get thousands of them from your adoring fans.”

Potter shuffles in his seat, refocusing on the loose thread in his jeans. “Didn’t you get any?”

“No,” Draco answers. Potter looks up sharply. “Unless you count howlers disguised as singing grams, in which case I’ve had two.”

“Someone sent you a howler…on _Valentine’s Day_?” Potter asks with misplaced emphasis, as if he can’t believe anyone could possibly be cruel on a holiday.

“That’s why I came to your office last year,” Draco explains. “I was going to report it, but I realised it was stupid.” _So I just went home with you instead._ “I don’t even think it’s a crime.”

“And this year?”

Potter is staring at him much too intensely so Draco has little choice but to look down at his knees as he responds. “I didn’t open it. I just sent it back. I’m sure it’s another one. Who would want to send me a Valentine’s Day gram?”

“Draco,” Potter says, in his soft voice that seems to be reserved for using Draco’s first name. “Don’t you know why I’m here?”

Draco stares at a patch of dry skin above his knee. “You never did answer me,” he says to Harry as he makes a mental note to change his moisturiser.

“I’m here to ask you out.” 

Draco’s head jerks up and he locks eyes with Harry. 

“On a date,” Harry continues, his eyes unblinking even as his voice wavers. “With me. Tonight.”

The flutter in Draco’s stomach returns. 

**You choose:**

** _A:_ **

[“Then go ahead and ask me already, Potter.”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419087)

** _B:_ **

[“Save your pity date, Potter. I already have plans anyway.”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388553)


	18. ###

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	19. !!!

Potter leaves without any fuss. Which irritates Draco. Not that he wants Potter to make a fuss. Just that if he’d known Potter was going to give up so readily, he might not have been so contrary in the first place. 

Nevertheless, Draco takes the opportunity, absent from Potter, to bathe and dress himself properly. He’s not particularly happy that Potter has seen him half-dressed, in a robe no less, even though Potter may have seen him with significantly less clothing last Valentine’s Day. At least his hair was styled then.

Unsurprisingly, considering how the day has played out so far, Draco’s hot water is not working. He allows himself a short scream of frustration, paces his room twice, and then returns to the bathroom to prepare a bath with warming charms instead. For good measure, he adds a few calming spells and his favourite rose oils (muggle but impressively effective).

Sinking into the bath water relaxes Draco more than he could have hoped for. He closes his eyes and drops his head back against the side of the tub. He sighs – why couldn’t the rest of this day be as peaceful as this bath? Better yet, why couldn’t Draco just skip this day? 

The water grows cold too fast, the charms wearing off. Draco lifts up his wand automatically to recast but changes his mind. He stands up and summons a towel instead. 

He dresses himself Potter appropriate – white silk button up, tight black trousers. Not that he’s expecting or wanting Potter to turn up again. Just that if he does, Draco will be ready.

The rest of the morning goes by with bored anticipation. Draco fiddles around with the potions in his makeshift laboratory – a repurposed laundry room – but his heart isn’t really in it. The afternoon isn’t much better – the only difference is that Draco’s anticipation is replaced with self-pity. Potter’s not coming back. Obviously. And Draco is alone on Valentine’s Day. 

When the doorbell chimes in the very late afternoon – waking Draco from a half nap he hadn’t meant to start – Draco’s heart twitches. He’s back. 

Draco hurries to the door, smoothing back his hair as he does. He hastily retucks his shirt and eagerly wrenches open the door to greet Potter.

It’s Pansy. 

“Good, you’re dressed,” she says, walking past Draco. She hangs a long metallic coat by Draco’s door and disappears into the living room. Draco lets his disappointment play out on his face privately before he follows her in.

“Of course I’m dressed. It’s the afternoon,” he replies.

Pansy is lying back on Draco’s chaise lounge, her legs bent up, causing the tight black dress she is wearing to hike up around her hips. She doesn’t care, of course. 

“So you’re not sitting around moping again because Potter didn’t call?”

Draco sits down across from Pansy. “He came by.”

Pansy sits up immediately, pulling her dress down over her thighs. “He’s here? That’s– oh my gosh, did I _interrupt_ something?” Pansy’s eyes are wide with excitement.

“He’s not here anymore,” Draco explains, refraining from elaborating on how he effectively dismissed Potter.

Pansy stares back at Draco for a moment, reading his face. She must see something pathetic, because she stops asking questions. She stands up. “Get your coat. We’re going on a Fuck Valentine’s Day Pub Crawl. First stop: the Leaky.”

Draco narrows his eyes. “You’re not going to make eyes with the first mildly attractive person you find and leave me all alone?”

Pansy definitely wants to argue with that – her face screws up like she’s about to retaliate at the jab but, then, it softens just as fast. “I promise,” she ends up saying. 

Draco battles with himself. There’s still a small (hopeful) part of him that thinks Potter will turn up on his doorstep again. But that’s ridiculous. Draco had an opportunity and he gave it up. 

Pansy holds out her hand and looks at Draco expectantly. 

**You choose:**

**A:**

[ _Draco sighs. He might as well spend the rest of this horrible day getting stupidly drunk. And hopefully laid. Even if it’s just by some stranger at a pub who only sort of looks like Potter when Draco squints._ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388574)

[ _“Fine.”_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388574)

**B:**

[ _Draco considers it. He really does. But there are only so many Potter look-a-likes you can sleep with (one) before it becomes tiresome. And all he wants to do is stay home and get drunk. If he’s still hoping Potter might show up eventually, that’s neither here nor there._ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388592)

[ _“Can’t I just mope tonight, Pansy?”_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31388592)


	20. ###

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	21. !!!

The Leaky Cauldron isn’t the nicest place for a firewhisky, especially early on a Wednesday night. Draco and Pansy are the only two actually sitting at the bar. Everyone else is set up on tables awaiting food, and not just a few chips to sate the alcohol but actual meals. There are a couple of beers and glasses of wine here and there but certainly no other firewhiskys. 

“How long do we have to stay here?” Draco asks Pansy, swirling his glass.

Pansy’s hand shoots out and steadies Draco’s glass. She hates it when he plays with his alcohol. “As long as it takes you to drink that. One drink per pub. Those are the official rules of the Fuck Valentine’s Day Pub Crawl.”

Draco would usually have an argument against Pansy making up her own rules but he’s actually quite happy to leave The Leaky sooner rather than later. He stays quiet and downs the rest of his drink, slamming it down onto the bar-top a little harder than necessary as he stands up. Pansy gives Draco a look but she gets up too, her firewhisky already well finished. 

They walk to the door, Draco in front, eager to move to somewhere where they stick out a little less. Before he can open it, the door swings out in front of them and a familiar gawky face with a patch of vibrant red hair appears. Draco’s chest clenches as he recognises Weasley. Behind him is another familiar face, bushy eyebrows with bushier hair. Granger. Draco watches the door closely, waiting for the final member of the golden trio to walk in.

The door swings a few more times but, to Draco’s disappointment and relief, no one else enters. He focuses on Granger who he realises has been saying his name. “What?” he barks, immediately regretting his tone. Even though he had never given her any reason to be, Granger had always been nice to him after the war, even more so than Potter originally. 

“I was just saying I thought you would be with Harry.”

“What?” Draco repeats, although he has his tone in check now. “Why would I be with Potter?”

Granger looks to Weasley beside her and they share a confused look. Neither of them say anything. 

“Why would I be with Potter?” Draco asks again. 

Granger’s eyes narrow and her face constricts tightly as if she’s trying to work something out. Weasley just looks confused. 

“Didn’t you get his Valentine’s Day-gram?” he asks. 

The firewhisky must hit Draco because his head suddenly feels too heavy to hold up. One of his hands finds Pansy’s shoulder for support. “ _Potter_ sent that?”

“Yeah,” Weasley answers. “Finally! You’re all he’s been talking about since–“ He cuts off when Granger nudges him in the ribs. “What was that for?”

Draco looks to Granger, waiting further explanation, all the while he can feel his heart beating impossibly loud in his head.

Granger looks down at a watch on her wrist. It appears muggle. “It’s still early,” she says. “If Harry’s not with you, then I’m sure he’ll be at home.” Granger looks back up at Draco. “ _Alone_ ,” she adds pointedly. 

Draco doesn’t have much to say to that since his brain has pretty much turned to mush after discovering Potter sent the Valentine’s Day-gram. He probably looks like a bit of a fool, actually. Weasley will never let him live this down. Thankfully Pansy speaks up and replies in his place.

“Thanks, Hermione, “ she says. _Since when are Pansy and Granger on a first name basis?_ “But Draco and I are in the middle of a very important Fuck Valentine’s Day pub crawl and seeing exes–“

“He’s not my ex–“ Draco tries to interrupt.

“–isn’t really on theme.”

Weasley starts to laugh but Pansy shoots him her death glare and he quietens just as quickly. 

They all stand there for a moment longer, nobody speaking, until Pansy takes action and pushes Draco towards the door. Granger and Weasley awkwardly move out of the way and Draco swears he can see Granger whispering something into Pansy’s ear as she passes.

Outside, Draco’s head begins to clear. But all that he can think of is Potter. Pansy’s hand clasps tightly around his wrist and, knowing what’s coming, Draco closes his eyes before she apparates them away.

When Draco opens them, it isn’t to the luminescent sign of their next pub, but to a small dying garden and some run-down porch steps that Draco can remember quite clearly because he stumbled down them, hungover, almost a year ago. He turns to Pansy.

“Don’t say anything,” she says, face stern. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to be here. Just go talk to Potter. Please.”

“What about–“

“I said don’t say anything.” 

Before Draco can disobey again like he very much intends to, Pansy drops her grip on Draco’s wrist and apparates away, leaving Draco alone in Potter’s front yard. Fuck. 

Pansy’s right of course. He does want to see Potter. Potter, who sent him a Valentine’s Day-gram that Draco didn’t even get to hear because he sent it back. Potter, who turned up on Draco’s doorstep only to be rejected again. Fuck.

Draco walks up the porch steps and lifts a hand to knock. It hovers there silently for a few beats before he works up the courage to actually make contact with the door. 

He waits, frozen, as a light turns on somewhere near the door and Potter’s footsteps get louder. The door swings open to Potter, shirtless and barefoot, wearing only jeans. It makes Draco feel a little better about being caught in his robe earlier, and he lets his eyes roam freely in retribution for Potter’s own liberties. 

“Malfoy,” Potter says, pushing his hair back. “What do you want?”

_You_ is the first and honest answer that springs to Draco’s head but he can’t get the word to come out of his mouth. He takes a deep breath, mindful of Potter watching him closely and works up the courage to answer.

**You choose:**

**A:**

[“To take you out on a date. Tonight. Now, actually.”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419030)

** B: **

[“Polite manners dictate that you invite me in, Potter. It’s cold and it’s Valentine’s Day and I could use a drink.”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419216)


	22. ###

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	23. !!!

Sitting around at home, alone, with a couple of drinks in his system, Draco can’t help but think of Potter. Wonderful, irritating, ridiculously gorgeous Potter. How pathetic. 

What’s worse is he had an opportunity to see Potter, talk to Potter, tell Potter exactly what he’s been dreaming of ever since last Valentine’s Day, and he passed it by. Why? Because’s he’s a fucking coward. His therapist would phrase it better. She would say something less harsh like he’s been raised to prioritise self preservation. But really he’s just a coward. 

Potter’s not a coward. He’s quick-tempered and irrational and ridiculously confusing but he’s not a coward. 

Draco lies back on his chaise lounge holding a glass out beside him. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispers sarcastically to himself.

And then because it sounds ridiculous and he’s a little tipsy, he says it again, this time half-shouting: “HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY.”

He snorts at his own pathetic-ness and rolls onto his side to take a sip ofhis firewhisky. But when he brings the glass to his lips, he discovers it’s already empty. He stares at the glass in confusion. Didn’t he just pour a third glass a minute ago? Or had that been a fourth?

He places the glass on the floor and fumbles around for his wand but it’s not in any of his pockets. He lies still, allowing himself a moment longer of rest before he pulls himself to his feet to search for more firewhisky, like a fucking muggle, seeing how he’s currently wandless. Thank you, Valentine’s Day. 

Draco trudges into the kitchen. Ruby looks up at him as he enters from where she is perched on the window sill. Her eyes are wide and judgmental.

“Don’t you dare say a word, Ruby.”

She doesn’t. She’s an owl. 

“I’m fine,” Draco continues. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Ruby blinks.

“I’m not thinking about Potter.”

Ruby blinks again. 

“I’m not.”

Ruby turns away to stare back out the window.

“Fine,” Draco concedes, compelled by Ruby’s passionate argument. “I’ll write him.”

He stomps off to grab his quill and some parchment. When he returns to the kitchen, he is calmed down somewhat but he’s still a little jittery. He inks up his quill and places it down to parchment before he even knows what he’s going to say. 

**You choose:**

**A:**

[Potter. Potter. Potter. Potter. I. Want. You. To. Come. Over. I’ve put my floo address in this letter. Now you can come put something else in me.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419192)

**B:**

[ _Dear Potter,_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419159)

[ _What are you wearing? Just curious._ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419159)

[ _All the regards and other boring formalities,_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419159)

[ _Your greatest fantasy,_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419159)

[ _Draco_ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31419159)


	24. ###

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	25. ***

Asking Potter out on a dinner date, as it turns out, is extremely stressful. He can’t just take Potter anywhere. It has to be special. But it can’t be special to the point that it looks like Draco’s trying too hard. He _is_ , of course, but Potter isn’t supposed to _know_ that. 

There’s really only one place that Draco can think of remotely appropriate. It’s a reasonably fancy restaurant just on the outskirts of London but it’s also muggle, and he’s hoping Potter will appreciate that. The more he thinks about it, the more he decides it’s quite perfect and his heart is set. 

Of course, everything that can go wrong will go wrong and–

“Sorry sir, we’re fully booked. Perhaps I can arrange a table for you tomorrow night?”

“That’s hardly going to help us now, is it?” Draco replies snidely and then catches himself. “I apologise, that was rude.” He leans forward and quietens his voice so Potter can’t hear. “Look, I really need to impress this guy,” he says, using his eyes to gesture to Potter standing behind him. “Is there anything you can do to get us a table?”

“We’re fully booked,” The hostess repeats, not dropping her volume.

Draco tries again. “Yes, I know,” he whispers, “but this is Harry Potter. I appreciate you don’t know who that is, but trust me, he is a big deal, to a lot of people, but also very much to me. And it’s very important that I have a table tonight on Valentine’s Day to–“

“I’m sorry, there’s really nothing I can do.”

“Draco,” Potter says, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine, really. I don’t care where we go.”

Draco sighs and turns to Potter, feeling very much like he’s ruined everything. “It’s _not_ fine.”

The door opens behind Potter and another couple walk in. Potter smiles conspiratorially at Draco and then turns to them. “Excuse me, do you have a booking?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll give you $1000 for it.”

The couple agree immediately, looking like they’ve just won the lottery. Potter pulls out the money – yes, he’s really carrying that much money – and hand its over to them casually, like they’re not crisp $100 bills.”

Potter turns around to the hostess. “Hi. We have a booking under O’Connor.”

Sitting at the O’Connors’ table in a small corner of the restaurant by the window, Draco shakes his head. “I can’t believe you did that.”

Potter shrugs, fiddling with his cutlery. “You wanted a table.”

Draco stares at Potter across the table with complete and utter adoration. He's suddenly very tired of hiding it.  “I like you,” he blurts out. 

Potter looks up sharply, dropping his cutlery. 

“Like, romantically,” Draco adds, feeling his face heat up. 

Potter's smile takes over his face slowly. “Isn’t that why we’re here?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to have sex tonight.”

Potter raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I mean I do! I do want to have sex with you!” Draco corrects himself quickly, and then lowers his voice when he sees the neighbouring table looking over. “If you want to tonight, then I’m– well, my place is–“ Draco stops himself and starts again. “What I mean is I don’t _just_ want that. I’d like to make a habit of this.” Draco clears his throat – it’s suddenly very thick. “Dating, I mean.”

Potter stares back at Draco, silent, his eyes blinking, one, two– Draco can’t take it.

“If you don’t want to,” he continues. “I’ll just take the sex, actually. I’m not–“

“Draco,” Potter interrupts, leaning into the table. “I want that too. The dating, I mean, not the sex. Well,” he says, with a short laugh between, “both.”

“Okay, good.”

“Good.”

“I’m glad that’s settled, then.”

“Me too.” Potter bites his lip. “So, we _are_ having sex tonight, right?”

Draco giggles – and immediately regrets it. He clears his throat. “If you play your cards right, we could be having sex every night this week.”

Potter’s eyes get big and he raises his eyebrows. “I’ll do my best,” he promises with a devious smile.

Draco smiles back, and Potter’s smile grows wider. Draco’s does the same, and somehow, they end up in an unconscious competition of who can smile the widest, because every time he looks at Potter, Draco only wants to smile more. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Potter says, his smile stretched impossibly wide.

Draco knows his face must look equally silly and for once, he doesn’t care. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

 

** THE END. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Start again here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31202112)


	26. ###

 

**THE END**


	27. ***

When Potter turns up that night at precisely 6pm, he doesn’t knock on the door. He toots his horn. From a muggle car. If he hadn’t been pining for so long, Draco would have called off the date right then and there. But he doesn’t. Because it’s Harry Potter. 

He does make sure his displeasure at the gesture is obvious though by making Potter wait. And wait. And– Bloody Potter toots his fucking horn again. Draco smooths his hair back one more time and stomps out the door. He’s ready to tell Potter exactly where he can stick his car-horn until he catches sight of Potter.

He’s leaning his head out the car window, his hair loose by his shoulders, with the largest, most beautiful fucking smile Draco has ever seen. All of Draco’s anger dies immediately. 

“What the fuck is this?” He asks, his words devoid of all bite.

“A car.”

“I know what it is,” Draco says, smiling back at Potter even as he argues. It must be contagious. “I mean, why is it in my driveway and why are you in?”

Potter doesn’t answer. He just keeps smiling at Draco.

Draco crosses his arms. “I am not getting in that.”

“The car is kind of integral to the date.”

Draco feels his body react to the D-word with a shiver up his spine. He’s still in shock that Harry Potter is picking him up for an actual date. And he’s not about to give it up, even if it means getting in a _car_.

“Fine,” he agrees. “But if I die, I am coming back as a ghost just to haunt you.”

“Noted,” Potter says with a smug little smile that gives Draco the impression he doesn’t know how dead serious the threat is. 

Getting into the car isn’t so bad – Potter leaning over Draco to help him with his seatbelt is definitely a strong highlight. But as soon as the engine revs up, Draco’s heart jumps up into his throat. One of his hands grasps the door handle beside him and the other grips Potter’s arm, preventing him from turning the car-key further in the ignition.

Potter gives Draco a soft look. “It’s just like–“

“If you say flying, I am going to hex you, Potter.”

“Okay, it’s not. But it is safe.”

“If it’s so safe, then why do I have to wear this?” Draco asks, releasing the door handle to tug on his seatbelt.

“It’s just a precaution.”

“A precaution for _what_?”

Potter laughs. “Just relax, Draco. I’m not going to let you get hurt. You might even enjoy it.”

Potter’s voice is soft and calming and, of course, Draco believes him. His heart dislodges itself from his throat and he releases his grip on Potter’s arm. 

Then Potter starts driving and it turns out he’s a rotten fucking liar. Enjoy it? _Enjoy_ it? 

“Potter, you have to stop immediately. I am going to be sick.”

Potter glances over– 

“KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD,” Draco yells. 

Potter does that at least, but he makes not move to pullover. “Try looking out the window,” he suggests. “It helps.”

Even though he doesn’t think it’s going to work, with no other option, Draco follows Potter’s advice. He stares out the window, watching as the buildings pass by. It’s not as fast as flying, at least not the way Potter’s driving, but the movement is wrong. It’s not as smooth, not as controlled. 

Draco still doesn’t like it, not one bit, but after a while his stomach does seem to settle. He no longer feels like he’s going to throw up, only that he’s going to die. Which is something. 

“Better?” Potter asks.

“Marginally.”

“You can – erm – hold my hand if you want,” Potter says all in a rush, and then almost immediately after: “Sorry, that sounded really stupid. Never mind.”

Draco snaps his head around to look at Potter. He’s staring straight ahead at the road but there’s no hiding the redness of his face. Draco should probably be concerned that Potter only has one hand on the steering wheel but he’s far too focused on the opportunity Potter’s other hand presents to give it much thought.

Before he can chicken out of it, Draco carefully slips his hand into Potter’s, just beside the gearstick, and turns back to the window so he can hide the embarrassing grin that takes over his face. 

The rest of the drive isn’t so bad after that. 

* * *

 

Potter parks them in a field. In the middle of nowhere. There’s even the outskirts of a forest framing one side of it. It’s kind of creepy.

Draco’s about to demand an explanation but then Potter leans over to help him unfasten his seatbelt and he forgets how to speak. 

When Potter leans back, Draco reaches for the door handle, ready to find out just where the fuck they are, but Potter stops him.

“We’re not getting out.”

“We’re not–“ Draco looks around. There are other cars in the field too. Parked in rows around them. “Then what are we supposed to do?”

“I can think of a few things,” Potter replies, his voice low. He raises an eyebrow at Draco.

Draco can feel his mouth hanging open. He closes it. Potter wants to…here…with all these cars around them? He opens his mouth to argue before he realises he’s kind of into it. “Okay,” he finds himself saying. 

To Draco’s surprise, and humiliation, Potter laughs. 

“I was joking.”

“Oh,” Draco’s chest clenches. “So was I,” he lies. 

Potter opens his mouth to say something else but is interrupted by a flash of a light and sudden music. They both turn to the front of the car. There’s a large screen Draco hadn’t noticed in the dark, now lit up with some muggle advertisement for ice-cream.

“That’s why we’re here,” Potter says beside him.

“Ice-cream?”

Potter laughs again. “This is a Drive-In Cinema,” he explains.

“Oh,” Draco says politely, without any understanding of what Potter means. 

The screen moves onto another advertisement, this time for popcorn. Draco sneaks a glance at Potter. He’s watching the screen closely. Draco doesn’t really understand why.

“Potter, can we hold hands again?” Draco suddenly realises why Potter was so quick to take his own suggestion back earlier. The words sound kind of childish. 

Before Draco can take them back himself, Potter turns to Draco and eagerly presents his hand. “Amongst other things,” he says in his low voice again, a devious smile on his face. 

It’s the smile that does it. Draco laces his fingers with Potter’s and leans in slightly, feeling uncharacteristically brave. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Potter’s smile grows wider. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Eager not to disappoint, Draco closes the distance and presses his lips to Potter’s smiling ones. There’s something euphoric about kissing someone while they’re smiling. It’s impossible not to smile back. And Draco even finds himself giggling into Potter’s mouth. He pulls away, embarrassed, but Potter holds onto his hand tightly so he can’t lean too far back.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Draco,” Potter says softly, that beautiful smile on his face as big as ever. 

Draco knows his smile can’t be too far off either. There’s a dull ache in his cheeks from smiling for so long but he ignores it. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Harry,” Draco replies feeling out Potter’s – Harry’s – name on his lips. He likes it. 

Harry must like it too because his eyes get big and he pulls Draco in immediately for another kiss, this one deeper than the last. They both forget about the screen in front of them. 

By the end of the date, Draco still doesn’t know what a drive-in cinema is in the slightest. But he definitely wants to go again.

 

** THE END **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Start again here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31202112)


	28. ###

THE END.


	29. ***

“Why are we here, Malfoy?”

Potter must hear Draco approaching because he doesn’t look away from the Shrieking Shack in the distance as he speaks. Draco is surprised Potter beat him here. And even more so at the eagerness in his question. 

“Because I wanted to remember,” he replies vaguely, following Potter’s eyes. He hadn’t considered Potter would have other memories of this place as well.

Potter turns to Draco, eyes alight. “I remember pelting you with mud right about there.” He points beside Draco. “And I remember you running for your life.”

“I knew that was you.” Draco can picture it quite easily now: Harry Potter’s floating head. He remembers his misplaced thirteen-year old aggression just as well.“But I think you’ll find I was running to dob you in, actually.”

Potter laughs. “Yes, I ran into Snape, thank you very much. Remus saved me though.” Potter grimaces. “Professor Lupin,” he adds as if Draco doesn’t know the name of Teddy’s father. Potter shakes his head and a smile returns. “You must have been mad it didn’t work.”

“I was always mad about something back then.” Draco tries to keep his tone light but he can tell he isn’t quite successful. He walks past Potter to avoid his eyes and leans up against the fence surrounding the Shrieking Shack.

“Why are we here?” Potter’s voice asks again, softer this time. 

‘This is where you brought me last Valentine’s Day,” Draco half-answers. He runs his hands over the edge of the fence, remembering how Potter had pushed him up against it and surprised them both with an impulsive kiss.

“This is where you followed me from the Ministry, you mean,” Potter argues, but with lightness. “I was trying to track a dark wizard.”

Draco doesn’t bother to argue back. “Did you ever catch him?” He asks out of interest, and residual guilt. 

“Yeah.” Potter leans up against the fence next to Draco, letting his arms drape over the edge. “The next day. He was in the Shack like I thought.”

Something clicks in Draco’s head. “Is that why you left so early?” He asks, ignoring the strange lump in his throat. All this time, he’d wondered why he’d woken up alone in Potter’s bed. 

Potter nods. “I should have gone after him immediately, of course. Going home with you was–“

“A mistake?” Draco interrupts, not wanting to hear the words come out of Potter’s mouth. Somehow it was better if Draco could claim them. 

“No,” Potter says immediately. “Ill-conceived, maybe. Selfish, certainly. But not a mistake.”

Draco tries not to let show how relieved he is to hear those words but he can’t help sagging a little bit into the fence. He clears his throat.

“I wasn’t following you.”

Potter turns his head. He’s closer than Draco realised. “What do you call it, then?” He asks, an adorably playful smile on his face.

“I was trying to report a crime.” Potter’s smile drops instantly. Draco waves a hand lazily. “Don’t worry, it’s not important now.”

Potter’s smile returns, but only to one half of his face. “Do you usually report crimes by requesting to speak to the Head Auror directly and then just hurtling insults at him?”

“Do insults usually turn you on so much that you have to abandon work to have a one night stand?” Draco counters. 

Potter laughs, a long  pealing  sound that reverberates throughout Draco’s body. When he finishes, he draws in a breath and speaks, his voice quiet. “You still haven’t really told me why we’re here.”

Draco wants to tell him, he really does. He’s been stalling for too long. He hedges. “Perhaps I want a repeat performance?”

“If that’s the case, we should have met at my house.”

Draco steels himself. He just needs to be honest and vulnerable, the very two things he has shied away from his whole life. Not anymore. He takes a deep breath. “I don’t just want sex.”

“Oh?” Is all Potter replies, the bastard. Draco had been hoping he wouldn’t have to say anymore, that it was implied. 

Obviously not. 

“I’m interested in you.” Draco looks back out to the Shrieking Shack. He can’t be expected to be honest _and_ maintain eye contact. “Romantically,” he adds when Potter doesn’t respond immediately. 

Potter still doesn’t respond. 

Draco turns his head slowly, worried what he might see in Potter’s face. But Potter is smiling at him, like maybe he hasn’t ruined everything. And then Potter says something irritating and wonderful all at once:

“Me too, you idiot.”

Draco giggles – no, really – and immediately covers his mouth in embarrassment. There’s this strange sort of excited hysteria bubbling up inside of him that he has to release one way or another. Rather than let it take the form of more humiliating giggles, Draco steels himself once more and leans into Potter. 

He’s been thinking about what it would be like to kiss Potter again ever since the last time, but his memory does him as a disservice. He remembers it as brilliant of course, and breath-taking, butwords can’t do justice to the actual feel of Potter’s lips on his. It’s unexpected and yet incredibly familiar. 

Potter pulls away for a moment (Draco feels the distance gravely) and whispers against Draco’s lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Draco smiles into Potter’s mouth and claims another kiss before he replies. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

 

** THE END. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Start again here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31202112)


	30. ###

THE END.   


	31. ***

Malfoy,

I don’t know how you expect me to reply to that. I’m not lounging around in sexy lingerie or anything. 

Where is this coming from?

Harry

* * *

 

Potter,

It’s coming from a place I don’t need engorgio for.

Draco

* * *

 

Malfoy,

If you’re legitimately trying to dirty talk with me, you’ll have to do better than that. 

Harry

* * *

 

 

Potter,

What was wrong with that?

Draco

* * *

 

Malfoy,

It was significantly more amusing than it was arousing.

Harry

* * *

 

Potter,

You think my cock is amusing, do you?

Draco

* * *

 

Malfoy,

Not in the slightest. You, on the other hand…

Harry

* * *

 

Potter,

Well, how would you do it then?

Draco

* * *

 

Malfoy,

Dirty talk? I’d start by reminding you I know exactly how big your cock is so there’s no need to brag. I remember exactly how it felt inside me.

Harry

* * *

 

Potter,

I remember quite explicitly the taste of you, and the way you shivered when you came. See – I can recite past events, too. That’s easy.

Draco

* * *

 

Malfoy,

You don’t have to compete with me, you know. We could just…talk.

Harry

* * *

 

Potter,

Of course you don’t want to compete because it’s obvious you’ll lose. I was merely warming up earlier.

Draco

* * *

 

Malfoy,

Go on, then.

Harry

* * *

 

Potter,

What?

Draco

* * *

 

Malfoy,

Wow me with your dirty talk. I’ll tell you if it gets me all hot and bothered.

Harry

* * *

 

Are you making fun of me?

Draco

* * *

 

No. I’m just waiting for you to say something arousing so I can start getting off.

Also, if we’re really going to do this, give me your floo address so we can send messages faster.

Harry

* * *

 

And how do I know you won’t abuse the privilege of having my floo address and just come over whenever you please? 

I’ve enclosed it for the purpose of sending messages only.

Draco

* * *

 

I promise I won’t use your floo for visits until you explicitly ask me to…later tonight.

Harry

P.S I’m still waiting

* * *

 

Don’t act so cocky. It’s unbecoming. 

And yes, I know you’re waiting, you impatient bastard. Perhaps, I was drawing out the suspense, making you want it more. Obviously, it’s working.

Draco

* * *

 

Malfoy,

For Merlin’s sake, if you don’t start telling me where you want to stick your fucking cock, I’m going to just get off without you. 

Harry

* * *

 

See? The suspense is working. How much better is it when you really want it? Secondly, I am appalled that you think my dirty talk would be so ineloquent that I would simply list locations to “stick my fucking cock.” I am more refined than that.

Draco

* * *

 

You’re the one who suggested your cock didn’t need engorgio as an opening line, so forgive me for assuming the rest of your dirty talk would be just as crass. If you’re as refined as you say, hurry up and fucking show me.

Harry

* * *

 

Potter,

Fine. Since you’re clearly desperate for it. Here are the locations I would stick my dick:  
1\. Your ass (obviously)  
2\. Your mouth (obviously)  
3\. No, that’s pretty much it.

Draco

* * *

 

Malfoy,

I hate you.

Harry

* * *

 

Well fuck you, too.

Draco

* * *

 

Malfoy,

You don’t think I meant that seriously do you? Of course I don’t hate you.

Harry

* * *

 

Potter

How the fuck am I supposed to know that? It’s not like you’ve given me reason to believe otherwise.

Draco

* * *

 

Malfoy,

I’m not sure how I can put this plainly for you. I. Like. You. Last Valentine’s Day with you, it made me realise just how much. And if you just want to have sex again, then I’m here for that too. But I’d rather see you more than one night a year. 

Harry

* * *

 

Then why did you leave me? Why did I wake up alone in your bed?

Draco

* * *

 

I had to leave for work early! You knew I had work. You’re the one who wouldn’t even give me your floo address.

Harry

* * *

 

You have it now.

Draco

* * *

 

What’s that supposed to mean?

Harry

* * *

 

It means I’m sitting by the fireplace alone.

Draco

* * *

 

And?

Harry

* * *

 

I want you to come over, okay?

Draco

* * *

 

Why?

Harry

* * *

 

You’re so incredibly infuriating, I do hope you know that. _Because,_ Potter, I want to fuck you on my fucking chaise lounge, I want to taste your fucking cock on my lips and I want you to fuck me against every fucking surface in my house. Then, I want to hold you, I want to trace every scar on your body and I want to talk about our stupid fucking feelings. My feelings being that I’m very much enamoured by you, obviously, even if you are exceedingly annoying. 

Will you come over now?

Draco

* * *

 

Potter’s answer doesn’t come by letter. He appears in the fireplace, Draco’s letter clutched in his hand, with a dazed sort of smirk on his face that gives Draco goosebumps. 

Looking back down at the letter, Draco realises he’s given Potter the upper hand. He’s not fond of being open, being vulnerable, and he’d quite happily snatch the letter back if it meant the words, _his_ words, would disappear from Potter’s head. 

He takes a deep breath and looks back at Potter’s face, grappling for something to say, any semblance of words to cut the tension. He says the only thing he can think of (a little breathlessly): “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

The words seem dull and awkward and Draco longs for his quill and parchment. Why is it that writing is so much simpler than speaking aloud? But to Potter, the words must translate less monotonous because his smirk turns into a grin. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he replies. The words sound better coming out of Potter’s mouth. Heartfelt, but also mischievous somehow.

Draco clears his throat and tries again. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” This time, it comes out right and Draco is rewarded by Potter climbing onto his chaise lounge in a highly suggestive manner.

Potter drops Draco’s letter to curl his hands behind Draco’s head and pull him into a fervid kiss that only now does Draco realise he hadn’t remembered clearly at all. If he had remembered Potter kissing him like this, he never would have doubted Potter’s feelings for him. 

It is very clear now that Potter shares Draco’s feelings, and this time, Draco won’t let himself forget.

 

** THE END. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Start again here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31202112)


	32. ###

THE END.       


	33. ***

Draco’s floo alarm goes off at precisely 8.06pm. He had been beginning to doubt Potter was coming at all, which was doing terrible things to his ego. He tops up his firewhisky glass – he’s starting to feel disturbingly sober – and pours a second into the additional glass he’s had by his side ever since he invited Potter over. 

“You’re late,” he says without even looking up. He’s afraid he might lose his nerve.

“You never specified a time,” Potter returns and if he were looking, Draco knows he’d see a smirk on Potter’s lips. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me here for dinner or if it was just a booty call.”

Draco holds out a glass. “Have you eaten?” He asks. 

Potter’s fingers brush over Draco’s as he takes the glass. “No.”

Draco’s heart jumps a bit at the answer but he calms himself – It might not mean what he hopes it does. “Maybe you should have,” he replies.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Draco’s head snaps up automatically at Potter’s tone.

“I’m getting tired of this, Malfoy. I’m trying to show you that I, _you know_ , and it’s like you’re pushing me away and dragging me along all at the same time.”

Draco blinks back at Potter. His face is flushing an unappealing red in his anger but even still, Draco can’t help but find him ridiculously attractive. It’s really rather pathetic. 

Draco takes a small sip of firewhisky in an attempt to calm his nerves. “I don’t know what you’re trying to show me at all, actually.”

Potter growls – no really, it gives Draco goosebumps – and stomps – yes really – over to Draco. He pulls the drink from Draco’s hand, places both of their glasses on the coffee table and yanks Draco to his feet, pulling his head in close. Just before their lips meet, Potter pauses, as if regretting his aggression. “Can I kiss–“

“Yes.” 

And with that one word, Potter is kissing him. It’s hot and frantic and rougher than he recalls but there’s a familiar underlying gentleness to it that is so distinctly Potter. 

When they break apart, it takes a moment for Draco to catch his breath, but he rushes through it, eager to have the first word.

“If you were supposed to show me your kissing techniques, then I’m impressed, Potter. A bit too much tongue on the come down but otherwise–“

“Can’t you _feel_ it?” Potter’s eyes flash. He’s still angry. “It’s not like this with anybody else.”

“I already know we’re sexually compatible, Potter. That’s why I invited you over in the first place.”

“That’s not why.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No it’s–“ Potter starts through gritted teeth and then changes direction. “Sorry,” he says, like he isn’t really. “I shouldn’t try to read into your feelings. But I do know mine.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I want you, Draco.” (Draco raises an eyebrow.) “Yes, sexually, of fucking course, sexually. But I also want so many other things that I don’t even know how to begin with you.”

Draco’s throat feels thick all of a sudden. He wishes he still had his firewhisky. “We already began, Potter,” he says, hoping it’s not obvious how his voice has changed. “And then we stopped. Remember?”

Potter pulls Draco in close again but it’s not their lips he presses together this time, but their foreheads. It’s kind of odd and it leaves Draco with nowhere to look but straight into Potter’s eyes. 

“Let’s not stop this time,” Potter whispers, staring right back into Draco’s eyes. 

“Okay.”

And then they’re kissing again, and Draco’s already pulling at Potter’s shirt buttons, wanting more contact. 

Draco pulls back slightly to pull Potter’s shirt away, and catches Potter looking behind him. He turns around to his floor-to-ceiling window but it’s too dark to see anything outside. He turns back to Potter.

“What were you looking at?”

“Nothing,” Potter answers quickly.

“Did you want me to close the curtains?”

“No,” Potter says quickly again.“I mean, it’s fine. I’m sure no one’s out there anyway.”

Something about Potter’s answer doesn’t sound right to Draco. And then it hits him. “Merlin, Potter. You like it, don’t you?”

Potter immediately blushes and Draco knows he’s correct. “What?”

“The window. You dirty bastard.”

“What? No, I–“

“Walk over to the window,” Draco interrupts.

“What?”

“I said walk over to the window, Potter,” Draco tries again, letting a little authority leak into his tone. 

“Fine,” Potter says, already striding over to the window. He can’t help himself, the poor bastard. “But it doesn’t make any–“

“Now, take off your trousers,” Draco orders.

Potter looks between the window and Draco. He bites his lip.

“Go on,” Draco says, letting his voice drop. “I already know you want to.”

Potter doesn’t need any further encouragement. His hand moves to his belt so fast, Draco can’t believe he’s neglected to have this fantasy prior to today. It’s rather hot to see Potter this far gone.

Potter drops his trousers but when he tries to take them off, they get caught on his shoes. Draco stifles a laugh and walks over to the window to help a flustered Potter take his shoes off. 

When trousers and shoes are taken care of, Draco turns Potter around so he’s facing the window in just his underpants. He steps in close behind and brings his hands around to play with the waistband of Potter’s underpants. 

He drops his head to whisper in Potter’s ear. “Do you want me to pull these down, Potter? Here, in front of the window?”

Potter breaths out with a faint whimper. “Yes.”

Draco teases Potter a little longer, running his hand back and front across the front of the waistband, before yanking them down (to a breathy moan from Potter). He trails his hands back up Potter’s hips and then inwards to rest just below his navel.

He leans down into Potter’s ear again. “Do you want me to touch you, Potter? Here, in front of the window?”

The answer is immediate: “Yes.”

Draco doesn’t make Potter wait any longer. He drops one hand to Potter’s cock and uses the other to pull Potter flush against him. Potter is in clear support of this move because he makes a particularly enthused sound and drops his heck to rest on Draco’s shoulder. 

It’s a little bit of an awkward angle but Draco leans in anyway, kissing Potter lightly on the mouth. Potter opens up easily, eager for more but it’s impossible to deepen the kiss at this angle so Draco presses light kisses down Potter’s neck instead All the while, his hand moves over Potter’s cock.

Potter is quite a sight to see (and not just for the pet peacock in Draco’s yard). With his head tilted back and his eyes closed, Draco takes in Potter’s face hungrily. He’s open-mouthed and panting slightly, and he bites his lip in the most endearing fashion when Draco picks up the pace on his cock. 

Draco moves his lips to Potter’s ear. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispers, enjoying how his breath makes Potter shiver. 

“Happy Valent–“ Potter starts to reply, but trails off when Draco begins kissing his neck again. 

Potter’s breathing gets heavier and Draco has a pretty good idea of what’s next. He moves back to Potter’s ear. 

“Do you want to come, Potter? Here, in front of the window?”

“Yes.”

 

** THE END. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Start again here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31202112)


	34. ###

THE END.


	35. ***

Potter allows Draco inside but he doesn’t look overly happy about it. Draco supposes he deserves that but it doesn’t hurt any less. If Potter’s angry with him, then it’s up to Draco to be the brave one. And that isn’t exactly Draco’s strongest area.

Potter disappears to make tea, denying Draco’s request for something with a bit more of a kick. He’s hardly going to have enough confidence to seduce Potter on one glass of firewhisky, is he?

Potter’s house is exactly as Draco remembers it. Crowded and a little chaotic but inviting. Bookshelves cover almost all of the wall space, not just filled with books but countless disorganised knick-knacks: snow globes and puzzles and photo frames. It’s as if Potter went to a Poundland and bought out all their stock. 

Draco picks up a heavy plastic ball just bigger than his hand. On one side is a large white 8 and on the other is a window showing a message inside: _Signs point to yes_. Draco places the (decidedly muggle) ball back down carefully, even more confused as to its purpose than before he picked it up. 

When Potter returns with tea, they both sit silently next to each other on Potter’s couch. Draco knows he should say something but every time he thinks he might, his hands reach for his mug instead and he takes a long sip.

After the silence stretches on for so long, it’s unbearable, Potter speaks. 

“Malfoy, I don’t mean to be rude,” he says sounding like that’s exactly what he means to be, “but what the fuck are–“

“I didn’t know the Valentine’s Day-gram was from you,” Draco blurts out. 

Potter takes a long sip of his tea. His hand is shaking. “That figures. Since you didn’t even open it.”

“Do you have it?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I– can I listen to it now?”

Draco can see Potter tense beside him. “I don’t think–“

“Please,” Draco interrupts. He summons his courage and tries to keep his meaning clear. "If I’d known it was from you, I would never have sent it back,” he says softly. 

“Okay, but I didn’t sing or anything.”

Potter returns with the pink envelope in his hands. Draco feels a slight blush creep over his cheeks just at the sight of it. Knowing Potter sent him a Valentine’s Day-gram is a bit surreal. Potter drops the envelope a little carelessly in Draco’s lap and sits back down quickly, not making eye contact. 

Draco peels open the envelope carefully. 

“Erm. Hi.”

Potter’s face turns bright red beside Draco as his voice fills the room.

“I know this might seem weird,” Potter’s voice continues from the pink envelope. “But after what happened last year, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Draco’s heart skips about two beats. 

“You’ve made me–“

Potter’s voice cuts off mid-sentence. When Draco turns to the real Potter for an explanation, he just buries his face in his hands.

Unexpectedly, a female voice comes out of the envelope next. “Harry, do you have time to go over the Richardson case files with –“

“Sorry, Samantha, I’m just…in the middle of a letter,” Potter’s voice responds awkwardly. “Can I-“

“Incendio.” The real Potter interrupts his recorded voice, pointing his wand at the pink envelope until it burns up into ash. He turns to Draco with a grimace. “Sorry, it’s just too embarrassing.”

Draco takes a moment to process everything. “ _That’s_ what you sent me.”

Potter’s face hardens. Fast. “It took every ounce of courage that I had to send that letter, Malfoy, so don’t you dare–“

Draco doesn’t find out what he shouldn’t dare, because he drops his tea and impulsively pounces on Potter, shutting him up with an open-mouthed kiss. Potter pushes back into the kiss immediately with a matching intensity. 

Despite the size of Potter’s couch (minuscule), Draco – much to his delight – quickly finds himself straddling Potter and snogging in a manner that finally does justice to his fantasies over the last year. When he shuffles himself a little closer and feels his erection drag against Potter’s, he can’t tell if he’s hearing his own moan or Potter’s. 

Potter pulls his lips back and whispers one word: “Bedroom.”

Draco stands up immediately, pulling Potter up with him so he doesn’t have to go without kissing for too long. He’s done his time waiting, a whole year of it, and he isn’t keen on anymore. 

He shuffles backwards to Potter’s bedroom as Potter pushes him forward, mouths entangled. Something solid hits him hard in the back – a doorframe? – and Potter whispers: “Sorry,” into his mouth without even breaking their kiss. 

They don’t break until Draco feels Potter’s bed behind his knees and Potter pushes him down. Rather than join him, Potter stands at the foot of the bed and quickly unbuttons his shirt. 

“Eager, are we?” Draco teases.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t.”

Draco shrugs into the bed.

“Oh?” Potter drops his shirt and moves on to his belt. “So you don’t want to have sex with me?”

Draco blanches at the directness. He opens his mouth to say something but he chokes on his words when Potter pulls his trousers down. 

“Draco?” He asks hands playing with the waistband of his underpants.

“Yes,” Draco says staring at Potter’s cock through his underpants. “Yes, I want to have sex. Yes.”

Potter’s hands pause. “Is that all you want?” He asks, a lightness in his tone hiding the obvious seriousness of the question.

Draco drags his eyes up to Potter’s face. “No,” he says firmly. “I– I couldn’t stop thinking about you either. The past year, I mean. I want to–“ Draco clears his throat. “Date. I want to date. You.”

Potter smiles and yanks down his underpants. 

Perhaps Valentine’s Day isn’t so bad after all. 

 

**THE END.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Start again here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13592952/chapters/31202112)


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